


warmth

by lavendrsblue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 100 percent fluff, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, daisuga as first years, home alone you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 20:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavendrsblue/pseuds/lavendrsblue
Summary: A long weekend home alone feels even longer when Suga's heater is broken—so Daichi decides to keep him company.





	warmth

**Author's Note:**

> man, it's great to be back.
> 
> fun fact: this scene was cut from "a heavy leaf to turn," my daisuga manifesto, which may be of interest if you've read that.

Daichi can’t move his arms.

He’s wearing an undershirt, a regular shirt, a sweatshirt, and his heaviest coat, topped with a bright red beanie Michimiya forgot at his house the last time she was here. His arms stick out—he can’t hold them flat against his sides, his layers are too puffy. It’s a struggle to get a scarf around his neck, but it’s worth it once he steps outside and gets blasted with freezing wind. It’s _really cold_.

He manages to get the door shut and locked before shuffling down the driveway to his bike, which is not a challenge to ride on most days. Today, however… He glares at it, considering. Sawamura Daichi is a healthy fifteen-year-old, and capable of getting himself to Suga’s house, no matter how much his bike currently resembles an enormous block of ice.

Twenty-five minutes later, he chains the bike to Suga’s front gate, having ridden halfway there and hobbled the rest. Defeat is kind of bitter, but mostly just cold.

The front door opens to reveal a roughly human-shaped pile of blankets.

“Hi,” says Suga, muffled by the blanket wrapped around his face.

“Hi,” says Daichi, equally muffled. “I think my hands are going to fall off.”

“Well, come in, then.” Suga shuffles to the side to let him pass.

The Sugawaras elder have been out of town for the past two days, and the Sugawaras’ heater has been broken for the past day and a half. Suga (the younger) has been slowly freezing to death ever since. Daichi had invited him to stay at his own house in the meantime, but someone had to look after the Sugawaras’ cat, and Daichi’s mother was allergic.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” says Suga, as Daichi struggles to remove his backpack. “Did you have to walk?”

“Kind of.” He glares out the window at his bike. “Did the maintenance people call you back?”

Suga makes a face. “Closed on weekends. But I have extra blankets, if you want any.”

Daichi bites back a laugh as he follows Suga into the kitchen. He’s essentially an enormous pillow. He’ll have to take advantage of that later.

They spread their homework over the kitchen table, but quickly it becomes evident that it’s too cold to concentrate—Daichi’s teeth are chattering, and Suga has to keep stomping his feet to keep them warm—so they retreat to the television. It’s short work to collect pillows from the couch and Suga’s room to make a proper nest, like they’re little kids again. Suga makes hot chocolate, Daichi picks a movie, and they huddle under Suga’s mountain of blankets together as the opening credits begin.

“Daichi,” says Suga, some time later. On screen, the hero delivers a solid right hook to the villain’s jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming,” he says, so quietly Daichi almost misses it. “I needed help on the math homework, and…” Suga stares at the TV intently, but it doesn’t look like he’s watching the movie. “I almost didn’t ask you to come. I didn’t want to inconvenience you. But you’re here, so.” The blankets shift: a shrug. “Thank you.”

Suga’s mentioned his sisters before—one married and moved out already, the other only a few years older, in Osaka for university. Neither could spare the weekend to return home while their parents were away on business. Daichi looks at Suga—buried in Michimiya’s red hat and enough blankets to survive the apocalypse, the tip of his nose pink with cold—and something in his chest aches.

“Of course,” says Daichi. “Anytime.”

Suga hums and burrows farther into the blankets. He looks really warm and— _cute?_ —and also really, really comfy.

Daichi makes a decision. “Move over.” He tugs at the end of one of the blankets, loosening it. Suga tugs back on reflex.

“Hey, get your own.”

“I can’t, you’re hogging them all.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.” Daichi shoves his (freezing) toes against Suga’s leg. He yelps, letting go of the blankets, and Daichi takes the opportunity to squeeze in beside him, pulling the blankets snug onto his other side to encase them both.

“Not fair,” huffs Suga, poking his shoulder. “That was underhanded. Your feet are _freezing_.”

“We’ll both be warmer now,” Daichi points out. “Body heat.”

“Yeah, well, you’re pinning me. My arm’s gonna fall asleep.”

After some crucial readjustments—the TV gets muted by accident, and Suga nearly punches him in the face trying to free his arm—they settle in shoulder to shoulder. Daichi is so comfortable, he thinks it should probably be illegal.

“D’you want to pick the next one?” he asks later, as the credits roll.

“No.” Suga pulls the blankets up to his nose.

“But I picked the last one.”

“No.”

“I don’t wanna get up.”

“Then don’t.” Suga pats his arm, too tired for a full-fledged poke. “Sleep.”

Daichi laughs, quietly. “What time is it?”

“Time for sleeping.”

“Suga—”

“Shhh.” Suga hooks a foot around Daichi’s leg. He’s warmer than Daichi would have expected; he feels the contact through his entire body. “Don’t argue.”

The lamp is still on, but the television is muted, replaying the main menu. Usually he’d object to wasting electricity like that, but he’s so comfortable here, though he still feels kind of bad—

“Daichi.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking too loud.” Suga kicks him lightly. “Go to sleep.”

Daichi reaches out to turn off the lamp, but a finger jabs him in the side and he jumps. “Hey!”

“Don’t move. You’re letting the cold in.” And he wriggles closer to rest his head on Daichi’s shoulder. Daichi’s shirt has ridden up underneath the blankets, and one of Suga’s hands slides to rest on the exposed skin, fingers searching for warmth.

After a long moment, Daichi remembers to suck in a breath. Is it normal to feel your heartbeat in your forehead? “Suga…”

“Mm.” Suga’s eyes are already closed, lashes soft against his cheeks, and he looks—peaceful. More relaxed than Daichi has seen him in months.

So he rests his head atop Suga’s (his hair is so soft) and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> new hashtag proposal: #spoondaichi2018


End file.
